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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727697">aftermath</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadesking/pseuds/spadesking'>spadesking</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Implied Death, M/M, Post-Order 66</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:14:25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>820</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23727697</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/spadesking/pseuds/spadesking</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Wolffe wonders if it would have been easier to die and not know, rather then live with the truth of his actions.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Plo Koon/CC-3636 | Wolffe</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>64</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>aftermath</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/chameleonchanging/gifts">chameleonchanging</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Since the end of Clone Wars is just upon us, I wrote a fic capturing the moment after Wolffe's chip is removed since we know he does that at some point. This came out way sadder than I intended and that was totally not intentional, but Star Wars is a tragedy anyways so it fits.<br/>Tagging chamelonchanging because they are a godsend for supplying most of the PloWolffe fics on this site and on Tumblr. Y'all seriously need to check their stuff out.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Wolffe wakes up to a throbbing ache in the side of his head. His eyes open, but it’s hard to keep them that way. His body feels sluggish and slow, his limbs unable to catch up with his thoughts. It’s like someone threw him into a trash receptor and tried to assemble him with the pieces left.</p><p>With all of the energy he has left, Wolffe raises a hand to feel the side of his head. There are two alarming things there. Or, just one. A bacta patch, over where his hair should be. Wolffe rubs all over his head just to make sure, and sure enough, he’s completely bald. </p><p>He feels, rather than sees, someone move towards him. There’s little he could do, with how drugged up he feels, but it’s a relief to see a familiar face above him. </p><p>“Rex? What’s going on?” Wolffe asks. “Why am I—”</p><p>“It’s okay, Wolffe, it’s okay,” Rex says. “We got the chip out, it’s alright.”</p><p>“Chip, what chip? What are you talking about?”</p><p>Rex’s face twists in sadness, and he looks away from Wolffe. “Do you remember anything?” Rex asks, when he turns back. “About Cato Neimoidia?”</p><p>Wolffe’s brow furrows in confusion, but he tries to remember. They were stretched thin, and Wolffe remembers thinking that if they won that battle, the clones would be talking about it for ages. He remembered seeing Plo’s fighter jet in front of him, a welcome sight amongst the other Republic jets. And then, cutting across all the explosions and fighting, a voice. Clear as day, just like the Coruscant projections in the Upper Level. But now, it was burned on the edges, like someone had lit a match in the Chancellor’s throat.</p><p>“<em>Execute Order 66.</em>”</p><p>“No,” Wolffe breathes. “No, no, no—”</p><p>“Wolffe—”</p><p>“Oh god,” Wolffe says. It comes back in flashes, like blaster fire on the battlefield. The sudden wash of calm that came after that command. The sight of Plo’s fighter jet no longer bringing comfort, but rage. <em>Kill the enemy. Kill the Jedi</em>.</p><p>And Wolffe had done just that.</p><p>“Rex, tell me he’s alive,” Wolffe begs. His hand scrambles for Rex’s, and he holds onto his brother like a lifeline. “He’s got to be alive, Rex. I can’t live if he’s dead. He has to be alive, he’s Jedi!” Rex holds onto Wolffe’s hand just as tightly but says nothing. He doesn’t have to. His face says it all.</p><p>“Wolffe,” he finally says, and a sob shakes Wolffe’s body, “I’m so sorry.”</p><p>As he lets go of Rex’s hand, another memory flashes in his mind. They were preparing to take off from the cruiser hanger when Plo had pulled him behind a stack of crates. There was hardly anywhere else that was secluded, but with everyone getting ready, it was better than nothing.</p><p>Wolffe tipped his head to the side and raised an eyebrow. “Is something wrong, General?” he asked.</p><p>Without a word, Plo placed a hand on the side of Wolffe’s neck and pulled Wolffe closer to him. Wolffe obliged, and his hand settled in the curve of Plo’s waist as their foreheads rested against each other's. Wolffe closed his eyes and felt the tension in his body dissipate. He wondered if this was Plo's doing, if he was bending the Force to his will so that they may experience a brief moment of reprieve. If that was the case, Wolffe wasn't complaining.</p><p>He felt Plo take in a deep breath and the tightening of his hand on Wolffe’s neck. “Be safe,” Plo murmured.</p><p>Wolffe let out a soft puff of laughter. “I’m usually the one telling you that,” he said. He opened his eyes and studied Plo's face. Wolffe could tell that the Jedi was smiling, but there was a tinge of sadness underneath. “What’s wrong?” he asked.</p><p>The sensation of claws sliding into Wolffe’s hair made him shiver involuntarily, and his hand tightened around Plo's waist. <em>Damn him</em>, Wolffe thought, and he felt amusement from Plo's side of the Force. The Jedi knew exactly what that did to Wolffe, as he'd learned in their times in bed. “It’s nothing, I’m sure,” Plo assured him, his claws still working into Wolffe’s hair. Wolffe made a skeptical noise in the back of his throat but said nothing. It was no use bothering to ask further. When it suited him, Plo could be even more stubborn than Wolffe. </p><p>As Plo pulled away from Wolffe, his claws gently grazed the side of his neck. Wolffe knew that he hadn't left marks, but he honestly wouldn't have minded. It took all of his willpower not to go after Plo, to not hold him longer. “I will see you on the battlefield, Commander,” he said, as Plo brushed Wolffe’s hand with his. “May the Force be with you.”</p><p>The sound of Plo’s voice echoed in Wolffe’s mind as another sob ripped out of his throat. </p>
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